


love in the time of coronavirus

by ang3lba3, LadyMerlin



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Coronavirus, Covid-19 Related, Established Relationship, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Quarantine, Sickfic, social distancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:33:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 5,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23211034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ang3lba3/pseuds/ang3lba3, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyMerlin/pseuds/LadyMerlin
Summary: "and they were quarantined-""oh my god they wereQUARANTINED~"(because if we don't laugh, we'll cry)
Relationships: Alphonse Elric & Edward Elric, Edward Elric/Roy Mustang
Comments: 146
Kudos: 216
Collections: Lock Down Fest





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was initially written as a way to keep us occupied on a discord server one Sunday, about a week ago. The rules were simple. Roy, Ed and Al, quarantined in a flat. Each installment had to be less than 2000 characters (i.e. the message limit on discord). We didn't exactly stick to it perfectly, but eh. We hope it's worth a few laughs in trying times.

Al was pressed up against the window of their balcony again. It was nice outside - early spring - he technically didn't have to have it closed. It's just that neither him or Ed really trusted him to not... jump off the second story balcony to commune with someone's pets. 

Al had really shitty impulse control when he was sick. 

Ed had worse, which was why he was furiously attempting to learn embroidery. 

Okay so maybe not- an obvious chain of events, going from poor impulse control to chain stitching, but perfectly understandable when you understood that he'd been watching a lot of youtube before ordering shit off of Amazon, and the algorithm takes you where it takes you, and out of curiosity he just, sorta happened to learn that for like forty dollars he could get everything he needed to get started- 

And to avoid his phone. Which is. Dinging. Text after text from Roy. From. Pathetic shitty sniffly Roy, who probably infected Al in the first place. And who is making an alarmingly cohesive and persuasive case for Ed coming over and quarantining with him instead. 

"Puppo," Al whispers against the glass. Ed glances up. Al is making furious amounts of eye contact with a stray dog outside, who is thumping its mangey tail sadly. The dog, against all reason, does not find this aggressive, and cranks up the puppy face. 

"No," Ed says. He looks back down and realizes he's fucked up his fucking french knot, for the fifth time, and that the floss has knotted strangely. He's gonna have to rip it out and untangle it. Again. 

"Puppers," Al whines mournfully. 

Ed's phone dings. He glances at it, against his will. Image Received from BASTARD 🤬. The tiny thumbnail, before it disappears, is- flesh toned. Roy flesh toned. 

Ed looks furiously back at his hoop, and starts undoing the french MESS he has, and then he hears the balcony door opening just as there's a knock on his front door and--

"AL NO!" Ed screams, and Roy's voice calls, "Honey, I'm home!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's play a game - see if you can tell who wrote each chapter. Let us have your guesses in the comments!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We hope everyone is keeping healthy and safe!

Events unfold rapidly. None of them are ideal, and later, Ed will remember the chaos that follows in- snapshots. Things sometimes just, move too fast for you to think, to process, to decide. But you decide anyways. You act on instinct. You act on split second intuitions and your muscles' own inertia. 

You stop your brother from jumping off the balcony, get screamed at by old Mrs Hektormen through her still closed glass sliding door about spreading contagion, you bundle him back indoors and realize that Roy has somehow- gotten inside? Maybe? You don't see him, but the door is open, the door can't be open, you live in a cesspit of disease and you're already watching a tissue waft gently into the hallway- this is so irresponsible and you're rushing towards it with a sense of horrified inevitability- 

And sometimes. In these snapshots of moments. In these seconds built on inertia and intuition and hard won habit. You fucking judo throw your boyfriend into the ground when he touches your shoulder from behind. 

"Ow," Roy says pathetically, and then coughs straight into Ed's face. 

"WHY AREN'T YOU WEARING A MASK?!" Ed's gonna fucking faint. He's gonna. Kill Roy and then faint. 

"Uh, Brother," Al says. Ed looks up, shocky and twitching, preparing for homicidal loss of consciousness, to find him. In the hallway. Holding the tissue. And a cat. Somehow. A FULL FUCKING CAT. 

"Get inside!" Ed hisses, feeling unhinged. 

Al's face crumples up into a devious little grin, and he does so- and he doesn't - put down the cat- and then the door is- CLOSED- 

"Oh no," Ed says. "No no no no no, we are not-" 

Roy sneezes on him, then. 

"Sorry," he says through a hoarse throat. "They're uh. They're out of masks. My neighbor wouldn't give me any of his 500 boxes. Or any toilet paper. That's. That's actually why I'm here. I'm out at home." 

"Fuck you," Ed says to Roy, specifically, and then again to Al and the cat. "And fuck you and fuck you." 

Then he sits back down. And sews.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Monday! Hope everyone’s starting the week alright!

"What's the wi-fi password?" Roy asks plaintively, unmoving on the floor. 

"Use your fucking data, you, you, bottom feeding, nude sending," Ed starts, and then screeches when the floss just kinda-- tangles around his hand. He doesn't have enough of this color. It only came with one, one thingy in the sampler. It's fraying. 

"You were sending...sick nudes?" Al asks Roy. 

"The fever gives me nice color," Roy sniffles. 

"Hmm. Yeah. I can see that." The cat is purring... so loud. Ed is. Unable to tune it out. It's like a feline motorcycle. A feline snowmobile. A feline meat grinder. 

"You should try it," Roy says. By the sound of it he has made no attempt to move from the floor. "There's a really nice snapchat filter I could show y-" 

"Roy I will fucking dump you, and then you will have to live with me for a week and a half, entirely at my precarious vicious mercy, if you teach my fucking brother how to take the ideal CORONA VIRUS NUDES," Ed screeches, and throws his hoop at the wall. Something in the plastic snaps. 

"...so about that wi-fi password," Roy says slowly, and Ed grabs a pillow and screams into it. 

"Brother gets a little fussy when he's sick," Al says, sotto voice. "Don't worry about it." 

"I am NOT FUSSY," Ed screams into the pillow. "I am NOT FUSSY!" 

For some reason, this is not convincing. 

"It's on the router, c'mon, I'll show you. Oh- did you bring a box of groceries?" 

"Uh," the noises of Roy rising to his feet. "Uh yes, I did. Some are actually refrigerated, I should have led with that, sorry-" 

"We've been down to cans and boxed goods, this is perfect-" 

"I hate this," Ed tells the pillow. "I hate this more than anyone has ever hated anything and no one can ever understand." The pillow, when he pulls back, does not respond. There are several wet spots on it, inartistically arranged on the design of a cheerful kitten. A thin thread of saliva connects him to its butthole. 

"Hate," Ed moans, and tosses the pillow.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2/5th through the week! Hope everyone is doing alright! ❤️

THE FIRST DAY: Ed avoids Roy. His fucking 9.5 inch hoop is broken and the 7 and 3/8ths feels shrunken and wrong in his hands. 

Roy does not avoid Ed. Any time Ed thinks that the french knot thing is finally going to work this time, Roy fucking - breathes acursed air in his direction or something, from where he's laid out with tissues and his phone, watching, fucking, Vine compilations and - Ed loses it. 

Al loudly avoids both of them, making a point to announce his entrance into any room so as to not 'interrupt a delicate moment', including rooms that they're obviously not in. He's also conspicuously wearing earplugs and earmuffs. He refuses to take them off. 

Roy did not bring his own thermometer, because he is a disgusting train wreck of a human being who doesn't even own one, and Ed ends up having to give him the spare. It's old. Roy asks if it's old enough to give him mercury poisoning, and then starts reading Ed wikipedia articles out loud on the invention of Fahrenheit. 

Ed fucks up another goddamn french knot and loses an entire skein to it. Again. He does not lose a hoop, because the fucking cat, the cat they don't need cuz they already have a cat, crawls onto his lap and starts purring. And kneading. And it's just- well it's not that he isn't angry, but it's, it's a bit hard to be enraged. With that. 

Even when Roy starts babbling about fucking, the fucking, superiority of Celsius, like Ed doesn't fucking know, he's a fucking— PHD holder— that they have thermometers in Fahrenheit at all is an unwilling knee to the harsh demands of living in a sOciEtY, and if Roy tells him one more thing—

And that's the first day, really. They cobble together a casserole out of canned and boxed ingredients, and the heavenly cheese that Roy provided, and they eat it glaring at each other until Al puts on Dirk Gently and then they glare at the screen. The cat is named Dick Gently, because he shoves his entire face in the casserole while they're distracted.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sending love <3

Ed has to admit, having Roy around does make the whole quarantine situation a bit more bearable. Especially when he wakes up one morning to find that Dick Gently has made a nest in his embroidery threads, apparently immune to being stabbed by stray needles. The threads are a wash, impossibly tangled even after he manages to extricate the damn cat from the center of Amestris’ largest ball of yarn. 

He gives up on picking the threads apart when his blood pressure threatens to go through the roof, and resorts to scrolling through his instagram feed to calm down, scowling at all the people who are still free to roam about the city. He's moved on to his own saved photos when he comes across the nudes Roy had sent him the day before. Or was it two days before? He can't remember, but it doesn't matter; chronological time is for weenies. 

The only thing that matters is that it's been four days since he's been out of the building, and he's not sure he's going to last much longer. Looking at his boyfriend's nudes on the living room couch at 2 in the afternoon is a very different experience from looking at them at night, in the privacy of his own bed. 

Roy was right. There's something particularly tantalizing about Roy's flushed skin. His boyfriend has always been unfairly pretty, and all-too-aware of it. 

"You know," Roy whispers into his ear, standing behind him, making Ed jump, "you don't have to look at pictures when you've got the real thing right here." Ed turns to glare at him but can't keep it up for long, not when Roy is standing there shirtless, gloriously flushed and unusually warm. 

"Have you taken your meds?" Roy nods, so Ed leans in to kiss his sternum, but that's as far as they get before a fine mist hits the back of Ed's head and the expanse of Roy's chest. It's cold enough to startle them apart. They turn to find Al standing behind them, brandishing a spray bottle. 

"Not," Al says flatly, wiping his nose on his sleeve, "in the living room."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy *checks watch* Thursday! Who's lost track of the progression of linear time??

Ed blinks, coming back to himself a bit, and then turns to face Roy. 

"Wait, when'd you take your shirt off?" he asks. Then he looks at the rest of Roy. Which is wet. And covered barely at the hips with one of their towels. 

"Um," Roy says. "About that. I forgot to pack clothes, so-" 

"Please have this discussion anywhere else," Al says, and sprays them both again, furiously, repeatedly. Ed turns into the mist, open mouthed, and catches it. He coughs at the plastic-ky taste of it, and wipes at his own tongue. 

"Yeah fucking alright," he finally says. Dick Gently jumps on his lap. "No. Bad cat. Stop-- stop that. I'm getting up. Fuck you, no, I’m— fuck." 

Dick Gently falls asleep. 

"I don't have any clean underwear..." Roy says, and then yawns. His grip on the towel almost slips, which leads to Al screeching and panic-throwing the entire bottle at him. It thunks into his chest, and his grip really does slip then. 

Dick Gently snores a little, which Ed wasn't aware cats could do, drooling. "Uh," Ed says, and Al flees the room, shrieking. 

Mrs Whatshername thumps on the ceiling with a broom handle, and makes indistinct old lady warbling. Roy is frantically attempting to rearrange the towel, fingers numb and clumsy from Nyquil. 

"I don't know if I'm in the mood," Ed says. And then, "I've got a headache-" 

"WE'VE ALL GOT HEADACHES!" Al screams from down the hall. 

"My life is a nightmare," Roy moans, and collapses back on the bottom of the couch. He spreads the towel over him like a blanket. Ed sticks his feet under it, and Roy winces at the cold against his shower-fever-heated skin. "A tragedy." 

"A comedic tragedy," Ed says. 

"Are you calling my plight funny?" Roy says, and tosses a forearm over his eyes. 

"I'm calling your face funny," Ed says. He's sitting up a bit, which is good. Actually. He's very comfortable. He could probably fall asleep like this. Breathing is easier, anyways. 

"A humiliating narrative dedicated to my fraught downfall," Roy moans. 

He's asleep within five minutes.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FriYAY <3

Ed is a fan of eating. Ed is a fan of food. Ed’s daily caloric intake has struck fear and awe into the hearts of wait staff at buffets. Some places don’t let him through the front door anymore. That’s fine. For every place that can’t afford his voracious appetites, there’s another that’s smart enough to leverage on the hype of the People’s Alchemist eating their food like he’s gluttony incarnate, which is not a funny joke considering that gluttony incarnate had actually been wandering around the city a few years back but Ed has never been funny and most people are resigned to this. 

The point is, Ed eats like a vacuum cleaner because the caloric output to do basic alchemy is a bitch, let alone the type of alchemy _he_ does. 

People start worrying when he says he's not hungry. Point in question. Al has been fluttering around him like a feverish mother-hen, trying to get him to eat, but he just. doesn't. want. to. His stomach - and his mind - revolt at the thought. Once he's batted away Al's attempt to choo-choo soup into his mouth, he turns his attention back to his embroidery - he has better things to do. 

"Maybe he'll eat if I feed it to him, but like, sexily," Roy says, sounding doubtful and not entirely coherent. 

Al considers this. "Do you think he can do body shots of chicken soup?" 

"That sounds uncomfortable, but I'd risk third degree burns for Ed." 

"No," Ed says, interrupting the conversation that's taking place above his head. "I'm not cleaning up that mess. Stop fussing, I'm almost done," he says, pulling the needle through the fabric and tying a neat knot at the back. He'd managed to find exactly three skeins of thread which Dick Gently had not fucked beyond recognition. 

"There!" he announces, proudly presenting the finished piece. Roy and Al look at the completed embroidery in total silence. 

"It's Roy's dick," Ed explains, only a little disappointed at the lack of reaction. Not everyone can be a visionary genius. "But it's post-Brazilian because I don't have any black thread. Now I can eat." He hands the loop to Roy and pats his forearm before hauling himself out of the couch. "Happy Day Five."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Omake**
> 
> "Why is my- my...." Roy waves his hand at the hoop. 
> 
> "Why is Roy's semen neon green?" Al asks. 
> 
> "Artistic liberties," Ed says. Then he winks, leans in, and says, "Or was it." 
> 
> The ensuing conversation means that no one bugs him about eating for 3 more hours. Hell yeah Day 5.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 1 of Week 2! We're more than half-way there!

Ed considers making Roy sleep on the couch, because they're both sick and contagious and Ed doesn't want to risk them infecting each other with a mutated strain of the virus that takes out the entire town, like they saw in that one movie. 

But Al has already started making noises about having the entire apartment fumigated once they're out of quarantine, though Ed is reasonably sure that's not how fumigation works. He relents, because washing his bedsheets would be easier than dying on this hill.  _ Also _ Roy's pleading face is pathetic and Ed is only slightly more immune to it than he is to Al's pleading face (which is, not at all). 

That's how they end up in Ed's bed in a too-warm huddle, under far too many blankets, sweating miserably. Roy coughs and Ed wrinkles his nose in disgust. He can practically feel the virus mutating in his veins. So much for social distancing. 

"I hate being sick," Roy rasps. 

Ed hums but doesn't respond, because this is only the four-hundred-and-thirty-second time Roy has said it, and Ed gave up on trying to comfort him after the fourth time. 

"I  _ really _ hate it, Ed," Roy repeats, like he's trying to convince Ed. Ed doesn't need to be convinced. He  _ knows _ . But he does sympathise with Roy. His boyfriend has been feverish for three days straight, constantly covered in a thin sheen of cold sweat, limbs aching, drifting in and out of unconsciousness. It doesn't bear thinking about who was taking care of Roy before he turned up at their apartment. 

"I know, Roy." An idea occurs to Ed. "Do you wanna go for a bath? You'll probably feel a lot better when you're clean. What do you think?" 

Roy coughs again and nods. Getting him undressed is like trying to put pajamas on a cat. Roy's limbs are everywhere, cold and sticky and totally uncoordinated. He can't even stand up on his own, and Ed feels a frisson of fear trickle down his spine. 

Eventually Ed manages to get Roy into the tub and settles in behind him, so that his boyfriend can lie back on Ed's shoulder. Roy is shivering slightly, but this will probably be more help for the fever than paracetamol. He wraps his arms around Roy's waist so he doesn't accidentally drown, and wipes a wet hand against Roy's burning cheeks. 

God, he really hopes the fever goes down soon. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is NSFW! Though, when you think about it, I guess most of this fic is NSFW, but this chapter is *traditionally* NSFW, with like, dicks and stuff.

Ed wakes up the next morning, still wrapped in the circle of Roy's arms. The blankets are on the floor, and the breeze coming through the open window is heavenly. The sun hasn't come up but Ed is awake, and feeling miraculously alright. 

He slides a hand up the back of Roy's shirt to check his temperature, and even Roy feels cooler today. Ed relaxes for the first time in what feels like days. He hadn't realised how worried he'd been, but it feels like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. Ed snuggles against Roy, kissing his throat and breathing him in. Roy shifts a bit, and that's when Ed feels it. 

"Is that a gun in your pocket, or are you happy to see me?" Ed whispers, not expecting an answer but making the joke because the situation is begging for it. 

"I'm always happy to see you," Roy rasps, making Ed twitch with surprise. "But especially this morning. I think I'm getting better," he says, stroking a soft hand down the back of Ed's head. 

Ed kisses him again, this time wriggling backwards so he can reach the underside of Roy's jaw. "I think so too." 

Roy protests Ed's movement until Ed uses the space to slide a hand down the front of Roy's pajama pants and wrap his fingers around Roy's cock. It's barely more than a semi, but Roy's breath catches when Ed squeezes him gently. It only takes a moment for Roy to tip over the edge from surprised to aroused. 

His hands scramble for purchase in the front of Ed's t-shirt when Ed strokes him dry, and he almost whines when Ed brings his hand up to his mouth to lick it, barely wet enough to ease the friction, just the way Roy likes it. Roy smashes their mouths together and their morning breath is pretty disgusting, but Ed can't honestly object to it. 

The handjob that follows is a masterclass in familiarity. Ed gets Roy off with brutal efficiency, suspending him on the edge of too-much and not-enough for seconds that feel like minutes, dragging him over the edge and keeping their lips connected until Roy is dizzy from the lack of breath. Ed keeps stroking his cock even after Roy comes, making him squirm and shake and sweat in an entirely different way.

Roy is still breathing hard when Ed finally lets him go, desperate noises caught in the back of his throat, unable to care when Ed smears his emissions on his navel before taking his hand out of Roy's clothes. Ed's fingers are still wet when he strokes them against Roy's cheek. "Good morning, Roy. I'm glad you're feeling better." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #sundayfunday


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Monday ya’ll! Hope everyone’s staying safe and healthy!

"Jenga," Al suggests, sounding a little hopeful. 

"No." 

"Brother," Al says reproachfully, "what about uno?" 

"No. Don't think I don't know what you're doing." 

"I'm not going to do anything!" Al protests, sounding far too innocent. 

"No, Al. I'm not playing board games with you." 

"Uno isn't a board game--"

"I said no." 

"Dare I ask what's going on?" Roy ventures, braver and more foolhardy than any state alchemist, to venture into a dispute between the Elric brothers. 

"Al cheats." 

"I do not!" Al lies, voice breaking on the edge of laughter, like even he can't manage to keep a straight face anymore. "I just  _ strategize _ ," he says, biting his tongue when Ed looks up to glare at him. "Brother, these games are all tactical training--"

"Is that what we're calling counting cards, now?" Ed turns to glare at Roy. "The first and last time I played blackjack with him, he cleaned me out. He's  _ ruthless _ . It's not like it's hard to count cards, but I didn't even  _ consider _ it. He just - it was  _ traumatizing _ , Mustang." 

Roy bites back a grin. "And might I ask how old you were?" 

Ed frowns absently, as if trying to remember how old they'd been. "I think I was seven? And Al was six? Or something? I bet my dessert for three weeks and it was - it was a nightmare." 

"What about monopoly?" Al asks, turning his beatific smile towards Roy, who knows better but still has to work hard to resist it. 

"Listen, the last time we played monopoly, we didn't talk to each other for three  _ weeks _ . We  _ still _ haven't managed to get the bloodstains out of Winry's carpet. Why would you want to do that when we're under fuckin'  _ quarantine _ ," Ed demands. 

Al opens his mouth to reply, when Roy decides to intervene. "Well," he says, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "There's a game I used to play with Maes. I'm not sure if you've heard of it. It's called Risk?" 

Al and Ed shrug, looking almost identical as they gaze back at Roy, waiting for an explanation. Roy grins. "Let me explain." 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're on the home stretch ya'll!

“God,” Ed moans, “I’m so fucking  _ bored _ . I'm ready to go, even if I have to wear a  _ hazmat _ suit, just  _ lemme out _ ." 

"Alas," Roy says, totally unsympathetic, "that's not how this thing works, sweetheart." 

"Ugh," Ed says, smashing his face into Roy's lap to avoid looking at him, and also to avoid being seen, because he can just  _ feel _ his face heating up when Roy uses terms of endearment on him, the bastard. 

Roy huffs slightly but doesn't complain about the violence of Ed's move, and just adjusts himself so his vulnerable bits are less likely to be crushed under the weight of Ed's head. His hand lands on the back of Ed's head, just a sweet point of contact. 

"Pat me," Ed commands, saying the words directly into Roy's crotch. Surprisingly - or perhaps not so much - nothing about it is particularly sexy, though it is terribly endearing. Roy obeys, easing the elastic off the end of Ed's braid and finger-combing it lose. He buries his fingers in Ed's hair, knuckle deep, and begins to massage Ed's scalp, rubbing his fingers in slow, firm circles. 

Ed sighs at first, and then groans when Roy's fingers start massaging harder, moving from the top of his head to the bottom, just where it joins his neck. Ed can feel the tension melting away from his shoulders, dripping away from the clench of muscles around his spine. Roy's hands are perfectly gentle, and don't pull at a single strand of hair as he moves, carefully symmetrical on either side of Ed's head. Ed's face tingles where Roy's fingertips brush against his skin. 

"Does this feel good?" Roy asks, and Ed imagines he can feel Roy's voice rumbling down through his chest and straight into Ed's body through his hands. 

Already half-asleep, Ed hums and wraps his fingers around Roy's calf, reluctant to even move to verbalize an answer. The circles on his scalp get wider and wider and the pressure tapers off slowly until Roy is just touching Ed's hair. Ed doesn't mind. He drifts off to the best sleep he's had in days.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> almost there folks!

After the twenty-fifth argument over household chores in three days, they come up with a roster. It's a very fair roster and the three of them all take turns cooking meals and cleaning and doing other miscellaneous chores which are necessary for the efficient running of a household. Less shopping, of course, because they're all still stuck indoors. 

At least no one's sick, anymore, which is a mercy. 

The roster does, however, undergo dramatic revisions, when it turns out that Ed and Al don't know how to cook much more than instant noodles and basic pasta dishes. The first time Roy cooks dinner, they're both very appreciative, but they understand - without having to say it - that it might be a fluke. 

The _second_ time Roy cooks dinner, both Ed and Al are tired of eating their own less-impressive renditions of instant-noodles, and fairly lick their plates clean. Dick Gently does, too, which is more than can be said for Dick Gently's reaction to dry food. He's going to be a very spoiled cat, but they've got bigger problems to worry about. 

Ed and Al discuss it - almost telepathically, supplemented by frantic hand gestures and meaningful eye-contact. Roy notices this, of course, but doesn't comment, because he's not sure he wants to know. 

When he wakes up one morning to find both Ed _and_ Al staring at him with huge, wet eyes, he's not particularly capable of handling it. "Oh god," he rasps, still half-asleep. "What happened." 

"If you agree to do all the cooking from now on, Al and I will take over all the other chores _and_ I'll give you a blowjob," Ed offers. Roy blinks. "Two blowjobs," Ed says, when Roy is silent. " _Three_ ," he tries, when Roy still doesn't respond. 

"I won't give you any blowjobs," Al says, and Roy chokes on his own tongue, "but I will pretend I didn't hear _someone_ calling someone _else_ another word for 'father' two nights ago, and I will never mention it to anyone ever again." 

Ed looks horrified. Roy nods and extends a hand. "Deal."


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> semi-final ya'll!

"Al, for the last time, if you go out on that balcony and start belting out ABBA songs, I'm not sure if the neighbors will kill you first or _I will_ ," Ed says. He hasn't changed his shirt in three days. Laundry is kind of low priority right now, and he feels— really bad about using the unit downstairs, when he _knows_ that the one mom is sick with something and uses cloth diapers so she doesn’t really have a choice.

Al, who has surrendered to the lack of clean laundry by wearing a Vacation Bible Camp t-shirt from when he was 14 and neon green swim trunks with Squidward on them, strikes a pose. One hand on his waist, the other pointing at Roy with his cell phone, which he presses the play button on.

“YOUNG—” Al warbles offkey, and then swings around to point at Ed, “AND SWEET! ONLY—” swings to Fuck, “—BABYTEEN, YOU ARE THE,” points to himself, “DANCING QUEEN, OH YEAHHH!”

“Did he just call Dick Gently babyteen years old?” Ed asks.

“I am 22 months 5 days _older_ than Ed,” Roy fumes. “I AM _OLDER_ THAN EVERYONE HERE.”

“That is, really not the,” Ed says, trying to talk over Al’s increasing volume. His eyes widen as Al presses the _bluetooth connect_ button, and he slaps his hands over his ears, hunching in on himself.

“My _head_ ,” Roy moans, copying Ed’s position.

And then Ed sees Al— _go for the balcony doors—_

Al slides them open triumphantly, steps out like a Disney princess reaching the peak emotional bit of her solo. “YOUUUUNG AND SWEET—”

“SHADDUP!” Mrs Phillips yells at him from where she’s walking her dog, hobbling along on her cane. She waves her doggy-doo-doo bag at him threateningly.

“Puppers,” Al breathes, and hits the pause button. “Oh! He’s being such a good boy today! Isn’t he! Isn’t he!”

Mrs Phillips’ fat little beagle runs itself in a delighted circle, tangling with his leash. And maybe peeing on it a bit. 

“Do you need a dog walker!” Al calls.

“I NEED SOME GOSHDARN PEACE AND QUIET,” Mrs Phillips yells. “YOU YOUNG HOOLIGANS!”

“Let us know if you run out of anything!” Al calls down. “Anything at all!”

“I’VE RUN OUT OF PATIENCE,” Mrs Phillip yells.

“And time on this mortal coil,” Ed mutters. Then, louder, “Al, please come inside—”

“Hey! Would anyone be interested in screening Mama Mia tonight? I have a projector!” Al calls out to the world at large.

“Why is this our lives…” Ed moans, and looks to Roy for support.

Roy, who has a concerning gleam in his eye.

“Roy. No. You can’t like that movie. You can’t. I’ll dump you,” Ed says. Roy turns to him with a shimmer in his eye.

“I don’t,” he says. “I just, you know, I can have a certain… aesthetic appreciation… for having… an older mother figure who’s—”

“A hoe,” Al says supportively. 

“I’LL HANG UP A SHEET!” calls the mother who lives in the unit next to Mrs Whatshername, who has started banging on the ceiling with a broom. “HOW’S 7?”

“— _indiscriminate_ in her lovers,” Roy continues bravely, “And a young woman who finds love, and then, three fathers—”

“I thought you already found your _father,_ ” Al remarks over his shoulder, and then yells down, “SOUNDS GREAT!”

“WE SHOULD HAVE A GROUP CHAT!” calls someone else, whom Ed is pretty sure doesn’t even _live in their building._

“I hate you,” he tells Roy. “Holy shit. Now I have to feel bad for you? On top of everything else? Leveraging your tragic orphan past against me, the objectively more tragic orphan?”

“I prefer to think of it as a backstory,” Roy says, sniffing delicately. “It informs my choices but doesn’t define them.”

“THAT’S A GREAT IDEA!” Al yells. 

“SHADDUUUUP!” Mrs Phillip screams desperately.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we hope you've enjoyed this ride with us! sending everyone lots of love and good wishes <3

Time doesn’t seem to make sense, anymore. Ed can’t tell if it’s been days since they last went out, or weeks. He stops following the news because hearing about hundreds of new cases stacking up does nothing but trigger his anxiety. He can’t help but feel that he should be out there doing something to help, but the best thing he can do now is to stay at _home_. He knows this, but he can’t help worrying anyway. 

Their quarantine period ends but they stay indoors anyway, because it’s not like there’s anywhere else for them to be. As far as Ed can tell, his lab is still shut down, and Roy would be setting a poor example if he turned up to the DA’s office now, when the Mayor’s office has sent out a directive for everyone to stay home. 

They go out once after their quarantine ends, to pick up groceries, but the nearest corner store is closed so they do an about turn and come straight back home. After that Ed swallows his hatred of big-name departmental stores and orders their groceries online. He assuages his guilty conscience by over-tipping the delivery driver who carries their groceries up two flights of stairs, and passing her a tupperware box full of fresh cookies. They must be worked off their feet, and Ed figures every little bit helps. 

Ed and Al skype-call Winry and Mei and Paninya and Granny Pinako, and Roy zoom-calls Riza and Fallman and Fuery and Madame Christmas. Ed is grateful that Al has Dick Gently; it keeps him mostly sane when his ex-boss calls to tell him he’s been laid off. Roy teaches them to cook with limited supplies, and Ed teaches Al and Roy to knit, and Al teaches Roy and Ed how to speak Italian. They read a lot of books and put Netflix through its paces. They do things together and they do things apart, and there’s no conscious thought into the routine they fall into, but it works. 

Roy still watches the news, because as stressful as it is, for him not knowing is worse; the thought that civilisation might collapse while they’re sleeping is too much for Roy to bear. So once a day, Ed goes for a long shower, and Roy watches the news alone. 

This goes on until the day Roy bursts into the bathroom while Ed’s in the shower, and they both look at each other wild-eyed and stunned. Roy is the first one to break the silence. “You have to see this.” 

“What?” Ed asks, both at the situation and at Roy in particulars. 

“Ed,” Roy says, sounding strangled, “you have to _see_ this,” he says, reaching into the spray to grab Ed’s wrist. Ed sees the look in Roy’s eyes and turns off the water and follows him, dripping water and still wrapped in a towel. 

The news is being read by a lady who looks like she’s seen better days; Ed sympathises. But there’s a spark on her face that’s been missing for a while, and she’s fairly grinning at the camera as she reads the teleprompter. “- that’s right,” she says, half-way through a sentence when Ed tumbles into the room. “A research facility in Thailand has developed a working vaccine for Covid-19, also known as the _Novel_ _Coronavirus_. After six long months of global pandemic, finally, a ray of hope. Now, to our specialist in Thailand - Alex, what can you tell us about the vaccine?” 

Ed doesn’t hear the rest of it; he turns to look at Roy, who’s looking back at him with the exact same expression - sheer _elation_.

“It’s finally over,” he whispers, barely able to believe it. 

“It’s over,” Roy confirms, and kisses him, and it’s a ridiculous kiss because they’re both smiling and their teeth are getting in the way but Ed doesn’t care, he doesn’t want to stop. 

It’s finally over. They can finally get back to their lives again. Thank _god_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> writing this made me tear up, a little. i hope this is us, tomorrow, or soon. i really hope.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't think either of us intended to post this, at first, because we were worried that it's not exactly in good taste to be writing about something that's affecting so many people. Then we saw the post for lockdown fest on tumblr two days later and took it as a sign. We hope everyone takes this in the sense it was intended, as something light-hearted and fictional, and not in any way mocking or making light of the coronavirus situation. We hope anyone who's in lock down, or anyone who just needs to not think about RL for a bit, gets a laugh out of this if nothing else.
> 
> find ang3lba3 on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/cryingiscooltm)


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